


Walking a mile in unfashionable shoes

by RedChucks



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: Howard makes a wish and things go slightly wrong, though more so for Vince than for Howard, which is strange for them both.This was meant to get sexier at the end but it didn't end up that way. My apologies.
Relationships: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21
Collections: Bringing Back the Boosh 2020 Fic Exchange





	Walking a mile in unfashionable shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kateyboosh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/gifts).



“But Graham, it’s me! Me! You’ve got to remember me, I’ve worked here for years. Like, literal years! And I’m already late for work. I can’t be having this nonsense, just let me in already!”

The beady-eyed security guard folded his arms and glared out from under the brim of his Zooniverse peaked cap. It was difficult to tell how much he could actually see, between the lowered brim and his parrot-esque beak of a nose. Graham was unpredictable at the best of times, and when it came to recognising faces there was no guarantee he would recognise his own in a photograph. Usually it was considered funny by most of the zoo staff, who got to wave their badges and introduce themselves each day as if they were new employees (except for Howard, of course, who considered it an affront to his position as Senior keeper ((a title he had actually given himself)) and refused to show his badge on principle). Today, however, things were getting out of hand, paw, and hoof.

“I’m sorry, sir-forward-slash-madam, but I am very certain I have never seen you before in my life and unless you can show me a valid Zooniverse identification badge I am going to have to ask you to leave and come back in an hour when the zoo opens to the general public. Now, if you would just step aside - there’s a good lad-slash-lass - then I can get on with my job.”

“But it’s me! Vince!”

Vince stared as the man who normally waved him through with a wave and a cheeky wink, stared back at him with no sign of recognition. This was beyond a joke, especially after the morning he’d had. Fossil had called him before six a.m., yelling down the phone about cheese monkeys and pineapple people and demanding that Vince come in early and also straight away. Doing his hair in so little time had been a nightmare and he couldn’t seem to get comfortable in his clothes or make them fit right, and then he’d had to pay for his bus fare because for the first time in years his smile and hair flick routine hadn’t worked on the conductor. Finally, the cute guy at the sandwich shop had completely failed to notice or compliment his outfit as Vince walked past, even though he always did, every day, without fail. Vince had been in a proper funk by the time he arrived at the zoo, feeling like some unfortunate extra in a music video when he was supposed to be the frontman. It was like everyone around him was seeing him out of focus and he didn’t like it.

“No,” the guard declared, not even bothering to look for the name on his clipboard. “I have never met anyone by the name of ‘Vince’ in my life, ever, and I have a photographic memory. So unless you can show me a valid Zooniverse I.D.-”

“But I lost it!” Vince wailed. He had in fact mislaid fifty-seven official Zooniverse identifications but it had never mattered before. Graham let him in whether he had I.D. or not and Fossil seemed to enjoy retaking his photo each time, perhaps even a little too much by the way he slobbered over his camera. Vince had never had to deal with anything so mundane as consequences before and he didn’t like it one bit. 

“Look Vance... Lance... whatever your name is,” Graham snapped at him, looking Vince up and down like he’d picked his accessories from a charity bin. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress by turning up here but it’s not going to work. Our zoological staff are highly trained animal scientists and caretakers and they don’t have time for any Camden stylies who want to come and gawk out of hours. I shall now give you until the count of three to step away from the zoo’s entrance before I shall be forced to exercise extreme force upon you with my regulation security guard’s electric baton.”

Vince took a hasty step back at the threat - Jagger only knew what a zap from an electric baton would do to his hair - but as he did he stumbled back, the heel of one of his favourite red cowboy boots becoming lodged in a crack in the paving stones and sending him falling toward the ground. Vince swore in his head as he felt gravity reeling him in that if he landed in a puddle then he was canceling the day and going straight home to have a proper sulk, but instead of hitting the ground, wet or otherwise, he fell backwards in to a strong, sturdy chest, which produced a northern-accented “Oof” in response.

“Howard!” 

“Vince!”

Spinning in Howard’s arms, Vince fell against him in relief, breathing in the comfort of the rumpled, slightly musty smelling Zooniverse jacket and the rumpled, slightly musty smelling man within it. No matter what horrible or unfortunate things happened in his life Vince always found comfort in Howard’s presence. Howard would probably claim that it was because, as a true man of action, he was Vince’s protector and rock. Vince knew that Howard was nothing of the sort and that in reality Howard panicked much more than he ever did and reacted more dramatically than Vince as well. And that was what Vince found comforting; Howard never left him hanging when it came to an emergency situation, he was always there to scream right along side Vince when the monsters attacked or Bainbridge did something unimaginable. Occasionally Howard did provide reassurance but Vince always repaid the favour, it was their dynamic after all, and they were definitely going to need each other if Graham had gone off the deep end and was turning his electric baton on all and sundry.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Bu Howard, look out!” Vince cried, his voice breaking mid-sentence ad he clung on to   
Howard regardless. “Graham’s gone mental. He can’t remember who I am, he’ll twat you for sure!”

He felt Howard’s body stiffen against his and long fingers clutch at his arms and tried to suppress a shiver. He couldn’t deny the look of adoration though, it escaped without his even realising it to flutter upwards for all the world to see. Luckily for Vince the only person around to see it was Graham who didn’t notice the look, or anything else Vince said or did, because the only thing he could see was Howard. 

“Howard?” He cried nasally, his Lancashire accent dialing up several notches as he spoke, as if the Moon presence was drawing the Northern-ness out of him. “Howard Moon? Howard Moon! Moon like a planet, like Jupiter but smaller! Howard Moon!” 

Vince turned in alarm, in time to see Graham’s eye twitch erratically before he doffed his hat and scurried, like some sort of mutant rat/parrot creature, around to open the Zooniverse gates.

“Wow,” Vince whispered slowly. “He’s finally gone completely barmy. Sailed through Port Insanity and out the other side.” 

He expected Howard to agree with him, it was an interesting image and Howard did so love a nautical theme, especially when it came to banter. And after the morning he’d had, Vince needed some feel-good back-and-forth to buoy himself up. But Howard didn’t rise to it, didn’t even glance in his direction, and Vince watched aghast as Howard walked away from him and toward Graham, strutting like Freddy Mercury heading in to a Queen and Kittens Convention. 

“Welcome to the zoo, Mr. Moon, sir,” Graham groveled, bobbing and bowing as Howard passed him. “And might I say you’re looking very handsome today, sir. Very dashing today if I may say so. Not that you don’t look dashing every day, Mr. Howard T. J. Moon, sir. Haha! Why I had a woman here only this morning, or was it tomorrow, who was trying to sneak in to the zoo, no doubt to see you, to gaze upon your handsome face. Haha! She was a right mess, she was, or was it a he, like a brass band huddled under a bad wig to keep warm for the winter! Haha! Haha!”

Graham reached out to stroke Howard’s arm, his grin so wide he was starting to look deranged, and Vince expected to see Howard flail backwards with a standard cry of, ‘Don’t touch me!’ but instead he just accepted the fawning graciously before sidestepping out of reach. It was all too bizarre. Then, just as Vince thought the morning couldn’t get any worse, the realisation hit, that the person Graham couldn’t remember but had been describing was him. It just couldn’t be. He was Vince Noir! His face had character, it was memorable - his hair had it’s own blog for Brian’s sake - no one forgot about him! 

Until today. Today no one seemed to remember him, or care about him, or even want to know him and Vince didn’t have the vocabulary to describe how it was making him feel. The only word his brain could come up with was ‘bad’ but that didn’t seem to cover it, not by a long shot, not when he’d had an absolutely rubbish morning and was now watching Howard walk away from him, leaving him standing on the wrong side of the gate with no one but Graham for company. 

“Howard, wait,” he called out, just as Graham swung the gate shut, and felt giddy with relief when Howard turned back to him and at least recognised who he was, even if he did look a little confused. “Howard tell Graham to let me in.”

“Is this young lady bothering you, sir?” 

Vince was just about ready to twat Graham with his own electric baton, just to wipe the sniveling look off his face, but violence wasn’t really his thing. He was more of a soft cheese and hammocks kind of person. Instead he gave Howard his best wide-eyed, bush baby, look, foregoing all dignity for the sake of his job. Fossil had threatened to make his job a misery and the way his day was going, Vince actually believed he could do it. It was eight thirty in the morning and Vince was already convinced that even a sombrero wouldn’t fix the funk he was in. 

“It’s alright, Graham,” Howard said with more than his regular level of pomposity, beckoning to Vince like he was a stray dog Howard put up with. “He’s with me.”

Vince wanted to stamp his feet and throw a proper tantrum at the unnatural turn of events, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to give Graham the satisfaction, or look even more stupid and immature in front of Howard than he already did. And he didn’t want to crush the unfamiliar pride he saw flickering in Howard’s eyes. He was just going to have to swallow his negative emotions and hope that once he got to work things would improve, after all there was nothing like millet distribution to cheer him up, and nothing like a day spent with Howard to give him a whole range of much more pleasant feelings to deal with. After all, he reminded himself doggedly, even Vince Noir could have a rough morning every now and again. 

****

“WHAT?!” Vince stared at the sickening sight in front of him, eyes glued to the rotund, shaking, stomach exploding from pale blue slacks. “No way!” he stuttered. “I mean- What the hell? I ain’t doing that?” 

He tried to back away, toward the door, but couldn’t drag his eyes from the sight of Fossil dancing behind his desk. This couldn’t be real. A bad morning was one thing but this was beyond the pale and Vince wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. And he certainly wasn’t going to stand still and watch Fossil undulate. 

“But, Vince, you’re my baby boy,” Fossil panted, rubbing his nipples. “You’re my little, blue, blankie, boy. Oh yeah. Dance for me, baby blue boy. Put on those little blue baby pants and dance for uncle Bobby. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah!”

Vince tried to tell Fossil to get lost, to back off, but he’d been standing still so long with his mouth hanging open that his jaw seemed stuck and he couldn’t seem to do or say anything - like he was choking. All he actually could do was slip in to a shoe-string budget flash back sequence, his brain replaying the events that had led him to this humiliating, horrifying moment, desperate for some way to make sense of it all. After all, he thought numbly as a tiny pair of blue, lycra, shorts flew through the air and landed on his shoulder with a flap, this wasn’t the sort of thing that normally happened to Vince Noir.

He’d only been at work a few hours that morning - and was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d needed Howard’s help to get past Graham - when his morning tea break was interrupted by the crackling of long abused speakers as Bob Fossil unleashed his unhinged bile over the Zooniverse P.A. system. 

“Noir! My office now!” Both Vince and Howard had jumped, Vince in surprise and Howard in to action. He was on his feet before Vince had a chance to even think about mopping up the tea spilt across his favourite pair of customised work trousers, sure that Fossil had yelled for him, like he did most days. At first Vince thought he must have heard wrong, and the confused look in Howard’s small, darting, eyes seemed to hold the same thought, but Fossil’s continued screaming soon confirmed that they’d both heard right the first time. “Yes, you! Vince Noir! Get your huge homunculus ass in to my office ASAP pronto or sooner, you hear me! Pronto!”

Vince scrambled to his feet, letting the mug and what remained of his tea fall to the ground at his feet. Looking in to Howard’s terrified face he could imagine what his own expression must look like - with better pores and fewer crows feet obviously - but with the same basic amounts of overwhelming fear and confusion written across it in large, multicoloured letters. When Howard’s eyes met his Vince couldn’t help but give a little shiver; he always did when Howard actually gave him eye contact. His eyes were always fascinating but at that moment they held something strange, something compelling, something Vince couldn’t put his finger on, but they held sympathy too. Fossil didn’t yell for Vince like that; only Howard got that sort of treatment, it was like an unwritten rule of the zoo, and Vince could see other keepers and a few of their regular visitors looking at him sideways, wondering what shady, ball-licking, activity Vince must have been up to, for a degenerate like Fossil to be yelling at that particular pitch. 

They all knew why he yelled at Howard in that tone (former male prostitute; got suspiciously close to the animals both physically and emotionally; made Fossil rabidly jealous when he so much as looked at anyone else with that pathetic, hangdog look) but hearing Fossil yell at Vince, the once and future golden child, in the way he yelled at Howard, was confronting. Vince felt his cheeks heat. He didn’t know what was wrong with the world but he was over it. Usually he liked it when people looked at him, but usually the people looking at him weren’t looking quite so disgusted or suspicious. One day, Vince vowed, everyone would look at him with adoration and no one would forget who he was. One day he’d be King of Camden, Killer Queen of the Scene, Rock’n’Roll star, Monarch of the Mods, and Androgynous Idol of all. One day he’d be-

“NOIR! NOW!”

But right then he had no choice but to scurry off in the direction of Fossil’s office; he didn’t like being yelled at. Glancing back at Howard one last time, Vince hoped to catch his eye again. It wasn’t a privilege he was granted often and even amid such a strange and unsettling morning it gave him a right proper tingle. But Howard’s eyes had already moved on and Vince felt the bubbles that had formed in his belly at the meaningful glance Howard had sent him suddenly pop. Howard had spent the morning being pompous and explaining to Vince at length that no one could really forget Howard Moon, not once he’d introduced himself properly. Vince hadn’t had the heart to shatter his delusion. Seeing Howard smile so proudly and genuinely was a rare thing and Vince had focused on memorising it - the half-dimple that his moustache couldn’t quite hide, the way his eyes disappeared completely like they were embarrassed about being seen so happy, the tilt of his head that made the sun turn his scraggly curls in to dancing golden threads - he savoured it all and saved it up for the nighttimes, the alone times. 

Of course, the usual scenario when he was having those sorts of dreams usually involved Howard being alone as well, and morose about being ignored and unknown by the world, and grateful for Vince’s love and attention. In his dreams it was Vince’s affectionate advances which brought forth that smile, that joy. In those dreams Howard was so grateful that he was ready to do whatever Vince’s horny, touch-starved brain wanted. Instead Howard had spent the morning being showered in attention by Graham and the cleaning staff and everyone else he’d met that day, whilst Vince hadn’t even been able to convince Joey Moose to put some milk in his tea.

And now...

Vince shuddered. He wasn’t sure how this had happened, definitely didn’t know why, and the nausea he felt was too real for it to be a nightmare. He really was locked in Fossil’s office, watching the man’s belly wobble like some sort of grotesque, pink, meat jelly. And sure, he’d heard the rumours about what Fossil made Howard do, everybody had thanks to Leroy, but he hadn’t really believed any of them. Howard had too much pride, and too little rhythm, to be dancing for the likes of Bob Fossil. Maybe that was why Fossil was trying to force him in to it, if Howard had said no, but something still wasn’t sitting right in Vince’s brain. Not that he had much chance to think - the tiny blue pants slithered down from his shoulder and in to his hands like they wanted to be worn - and Vince found himself distracted by the flimsy fabric. He wasn’t used to wearing something so revealing but the possibilities were near endless really. One glance up at Fossil, who was still dancing and using a manila folder as a prop, was enough to put paid to thoughts of fashion. Vince had poise and dignity, he wasn’t putting on a show for a man like Bob lick-your-nipples-like-they’re-kumquats Fossil. 

“I ain’t wearing these,” he told the man, putting as much attitude behind the words as he could, shrugging on a fierceness he didn’t really feel. “And I ain’t dancing for you neither. No way. You can’t make me.”

“Oh is that right, muffin cheeks?” Fossil leered. “You think I ain’t got no spice on you, you micro fibre mop haired twinky? You’re just lucky I like my dancing boys with a bit of peach pudge on ‘em, you know what I mean? Or I would’ve plastered these magic picture box etchings all over the zoo before you even got here.”

Vince frowned. Trying to interpret Fossil’s weird use of language was always harder for him than it was for Howard. Howard liked doing crosswords (even if he did always cheat on the cryptic ones, he was genuinely good at the normal ones and Vince didn’t understand why he wasn’t proud of that) and he seemed to have a knack for figuring out   
what Fossil was trying to say within seconds. It took Vince a bit longer but he eventually figured that Bobby must be referring to photographs, and by the way he was waving around that manila folder, Vince was fairly certain he knew where said photos must be. 

“What photos?” he asked in annoyance, he was starting to feel rather pissed off at Fossil’s attitude, but the man just looked at him with a truly wicked glee.

“These,” Fossil giggled. He opened the folder and flicked a handful of A4s on to the desk. “I think my loyal Zooniverse employees would be very interested to see exactly how you feel about our esteemed Head Keeper, Howard Moon. Don’t you, pretty girl-boy?”

Vince reeled at the mention of Howard as Head Keeper. That job had originally gone to those freakish shaving cream faced twins, and when they had disappeared under mysterious circumstances (all that was left was a trail of shaving foam and a tie from TopShop) Bobby and Bainbridge had refrained from naming a new Head Keeper. Under normal circumstances Fossil was more likely to name Naboo Head Keeper than Howard, there was no love lost between the two, they were practically nemeses. Hearing Fossil talk about Howard like that, like he actually respected the man, made Vince feel sick, like he was on a rickety ride at a dodgy back field fair and had just noticed that the screws holding railings together were jiggling loose.

The feeling only got worse when he edged forward and saw the photos. They weren’t exactly risqué. Vince had his clothes on in every one (though one featured him in his old porpoise racing kit), but in every one he was also staring longingly at Howard, and sporting a rather sizable bulge in his trousers. The one of him in his swimmers was definitely the most obvious - he looked fit to burst in that particular picture and felt his cheeks burn hot at the realisation that he had been caught having that sort of reaction to Howard in trunks - but the worst was the photo of Howard leaning over him and grabbing his cheeks in one one large hand. Vince remembered that moment. Howard had been threatening him, telling him to keep away from Mrs. Gideon or else, but Vince couldn’t remember the details of the conversation, or that week’s caper. All he could remember was the feel of Howard’s fingers so close to his lips. He’d almost come in his pants it had been so good, a fact which was pretty obvious in Fossil’s photo, and the expression on Vince’s face was almost as bad as the straining of his flies. The expression Vince was wearing in that photograph was like a declaration of submission. ‘Take me now’, it said, in large, easy-to-read, font. ‘I love you. I’m yours. Do me six ways from Sunday.’

Vince clutched at the blue pants in his hands. He couldn’t let anyone see those photographs, not under any circumstances. Not only did he have a fledgling reputation to uphold, he did not, in any way, want to scare Howard off. His crush on Howard had been going on for at least two years, since he’d started at the Zooniverse, possibly before, and he couldn’t risk Howard pushing him away and ending their friendship all because he found out that Vince fancied him. It was just not on. He looked again from the blue pants to the array of photographs. He didn’t know how Fossil had gotten his hands on them but it fit with his current, terrible, luck and he knew that he couldn’t push it. He’d come face to face with Graham’s electrical baton that morning, he wasn’t about to take any chances. He couldn’t let Howard, or anyone else, see those photographs. Howard was a ladies man (or wanted to be at least) and Vince guessed he wouldn’t react well to knowing his one and only friend secretly had the hots for him. It would wreck his image of himself, not to mention the confidence he’d found since people had started paying attention to him in the last three hours. Vince couldn’t be having it. There couldn’t be pictures of him with a boner plastered all over the zoo, it would be the end of both of them, and their friendship. 

He looked around for somewhere to change out of his uniform but the only privacy available was behind an anxious-looking yucca plant. Biting his lip and with hands shaking Vince retreated to the corner with baby blue pants in hand. He hoped Howard had never had to go through with this. It was humiliating in the extreme, but also went some way to explaining Howard’s ever present jumpiness and misplaced shame, a fact which only made Vince feel worse. He should have been there to protect Howard, and to tell him that he didn’t have to do anything so demeaning. He couldn’t imagine Howard having anything embarrassing enough to make him resort to dancing for Fossil in spandex. Unless it was photos of him mooning over Mrs. Gideon and getting a boner whenever she looked in his direction. Still, that was hardly a secret, everyone knew about Howard’s infatuation and Mrs. Gideon’s complete lack of interest. And Vince had never noticed Howard getting hard in her presence, not that he kept a ridiculously close eye on Howard’s groin region (he did), so couldn’t imagine what Howard could possibly have to fear from Bob Fossil’s peeping tom camera. 

Breathing deep, Vince stepped in to the snug fitting blue pants and looked down at his body. He’d heard good things about the GI diet but had never seriously considered it until now. He felt exposed in the worst sort of way and quickly put his cowboy boots back on for the small security they offered. He shuddered as he heard Fossil turn the music up, and the scrape of his chair on the floor as he sat down. I can do this, Vince told himself. He didn’t want Howard to face the humiliation those photographs would cause, and figured humiliating himself in front of Fossil was better than having his longing for Howard made public. 

Stepping out from behind the yucca plant, and obeying Fossil’s orders that he shake his booty and gyrate ‘like a randy ocelot bitch’, Vince began to dance and hoped that it would all be worth it. 

****

Vince didn’t remember the paths of the Zooniverse being so uneven, but then again, nothing in his life was as it was supposed to be, and he stumbled with every other step, trying not to think or feel or remember in any way that he had just... danced... for Bob Fossil in a pair of tiny blue pants. He felt dirty and paranoid, sure that Ken and Sharon from Aviary were talking about him and laughing behind their hands as he passed them. His thighs hurt from twerking and he could still feel the wet, muscular, slide of Fossil’s tongue against his nipples and... 

He shuddered and hurried along faster, clutching the sheaf of photographs to his chest as he went. Fossil had ended his blackmail session by yelling at Vince for being late for his shift that morning, and for being a shifty perv, and for letting the baboons run around their enclosure with their pink pumpkin asses on display, and for being late for the midday porpoise race. Vince was the worst employee the Zooniverse had ever seen, Fossil had told him (with an overabundance of spit), lazier even than Lazy Boy Larry, and he was an actual La-Z-Boy chair! Fossil didn’t doubt that Vince would probably fall asleep mid porpoise race and end up coming last and at the bottom of the pool. 

Vince wasn’t used to being told off so venomously. Normally Fossil only yelled at him for his association with Howard, not for his work ethic or what the animals decided to get up to, and certainly not his jockeying. Vince hadn’t raced in months, the water damage to his barnet was too detrimental to the zoo’s revenues. It didn’t make sense to put him back on the rotation and the sudden change in Zooniverse policy was so distressing it made him want to cry. 

Sniffing loudly as he stumbled along, scuffing his boots with every second step, Vince couldn’t imagine what would cause such an upsetting change in the universe. He’d definitely never done anything to deserve this kind of punishment, had never done anything wrong at all as far as he could remember. He’d certainly never rained down extreme mockage upon Howard only the night before whilst going through his best friend’s mail and laughing at the fact that Howard had ordered himself a ‘Luck Changer Charm’ from one of Naboo’s dodgy Shaman catalogues. And he totally, definitely, for sure, hadn’t laughed in Howard’s face at the idea of Howard wishing that Vince could spend even one day walking in his shoes. 

At the time he’d found it hilarious, and ridiculous, because there was no way he would be caught dead in Howard’s shoes - they were brown, and ugly, and Brown! - Vince was a creature of fashion, a being of bright colours and soft fabrics, loved and adored by all, and-

“Nice shoes, scarecrow!” The jeer was followed by a snort of derision and Vince turned at the harsh laughter, first to try and see who was being so fiercely mocked, and then - when he realised that there wasn’t anyone around him - to see who was doing the mocking. 

‘Girls!’ his brain screamed as he took in the two women, one blonde, one brunette, but for once the fear was stronger than the excitement in his head and he hesitated before putting on his best smile and beginning to approach. If they were roasting someone’s shoes he wanted to be in on it, Jagger knew he needed some reason to smile today, but when he focused more clearly on the two women he realised, sickeningly, that their laughter was directed at him. 

“Yeah, where’d you get the boots? The Old Corral?” 

Vince tried to laugh along with the blonde’s comment, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what she was talking about. He was wearing his favourite cowboy boots, he loved his cowboy boots, they reminded him of one of his favourite holidays with Howard, when they’d met that sweet polar bear, and they were red, not coral. He was trying to come up with something witty to say in response, or failing that, flattering, because the two girls giggling at him were really hot, and really scary, and Vince really wanted them to keep paying attention to him. So far the only person who’d paid attention to him in any way had been Fossil. Even a pair of snarky girls was better than Fossil. 

“Hey, girls,” he grinned, stopping in his tracks halfway to where they were leaning against the ferret forest when he realised that his enthusiastic strut probably wasn’t cool thing to do in front of two major scene girls. Vince admired their style and commitment to their look, because zebra striped, crimped, and teased hair wasn’t an easy look to pull off, and their eyeliner was definitely... fierce, he thought politely. They reminded him of his old bandmates, the Kraftwork Orange girls, but Vince wasn’t keen on getting that sort of attention again, he’d been threatened with violence enough already that day. He just wanted a little bit of encouragement, that was all. Surely he deserved that. Everyone deserved that. “Wotcha? I like your hair, it’s well scene. I’m Vince Noir. Vince Noir rock’n’roll star,” he nodded, biting his lip. “So... D’you know who Gary Numan is?”

The brunette scoffed and rolled her eyes. “D’you know what a mirror is, scarecrow?” she leered, twirling a lock of brown, purple, and bleach white hair around her finger. “You do realise this is a zoo, right? Like, it’s shit hole little zoo, but ]it’s still a zoo. You know that, right? Not some yokel, wheat field, barn dance, yeah?”

“Um, no, um, I mean, yes?” Vince blinked, stunned at her bluntness, but tried to keep his smile in place. Ribbing and teasing were part of friendship, he and Howard played that game all the time, so there was a chance that they were just playing and that soon enough he’d have two more friends to add to the list of contacts in his nifty little Nokia, but for some reason it was harder than normal to keep up his usual positive attitude. He fluffed his hair absently, trying to fix whatever might be wrong with his appearance. Fossil’d had his pudgy mitts all over him, there was no telling how much damage he’d done, and the more he thought about it the more Vince felt sure he must look a sight. “Actually, I work here. Yeah. I’m head of amphibians, actually. Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way to my, um, my office actually, so if you wanted a tour or--”

“NOIR! Vince Noir! Vincent Joan Jett Noir! ” Vince tried not to notice the way the two scene girls sniggered when he jumped at the sound of Fossil’s voice screaming over the PA but he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. He was jittery and nervous and couldn’t seem to stop fiddling with his clothes and hair and the scornful laughter was getting to him in a way that it never had before. “Get your pumpkin ass to the porpoise pool, Vincey wincey! Choppity choppity baby blue blankey boy!”

Vince froze. The girls were looking at him like he was some sort of clown, or some sort of jazz freak. It made him want to be sick. Being laughed at was as bad as being ignored. He tried to plaster a smile on his face but it slipped off within seconds when he heard his name being called and jumped again. The relief that flooded through him when he turned and saw that it was Howard calling his name made him giddy but the feeling didn’t last long. Howard’s eyes slid past him to focus on the girls instead, which Vince should have seen coming, but which still hurt. 

“Vince.”

“Howard! How’s it going, Howard?”

“Vince, you’re late for the porpoise races. Fossil sent me to come and find you,” Howard snapped. “He interrupted my lunch with Mrs. Gideon and here you are flirting!”

Howard looked a little grumpy but Vince knew that was usual, even if he had been in a great mood earlier that day, Howard tended to gravitate towards grumpy. And it was just as usual for Howard to be more interested in random women than his best friend, Vince told himself. It didn’t mean anything, even if it still hurt, it was nothing, Vince told himself - several times. As soon as the scene girls turned Howard down they’d be back to their old selves, commiserating and laughing. Same as always.

“So, Howard, yeah?” the blonde said flirtatiously, turning to Howard and plumping up her teased blonde mop. “Are you, like, in charge around here?”

Vince snorted. “What, Howard? In charge?” but shut his mouth quickly when both women turned on him with truly terrifying glares.

“What of it, Gene Autry?” the brunette snapped, stepping in to his space and making Vince want to beg for her to spare his face. “Why don’t you run along and corral some porpoises and let the grown-ups talk, yeah?”

She spun back toward Howard with a dazzling, bright smile, leaving both Howard and Vince slack jawed, but for different reasons.

“You know Gene Autry?” Howard stuttered excitedly, and Vince watched in horror, knowing that the excited hopping was about to begin and wishing he could save his friend from the humiliation that was coming, because it always did. “You’re a fan of the classic films then? ‘The Old Corral’?”

“We study Screen Studies at uni,” they both gushed, transforming from fierce to flirty so fast they gave Vince’s braincell whiplash.

A conversation about cinema started up, floating above Vince’s head just like the indistinct hum of the city beyond the zoo, and he backed away from it carefully. He didn’t want to get stuck in some boring discussion of old films. Those poor girls were probably bored out of their brains, he figured, even if they appeared to be fluttering their fake neon lashes and gushing about their favourite films of 1936. Howard’s hands were flapping all about as he spoke like he was conducting a short sighted jazz band and Vince watched, waiting for the moment when the two attractive women would begin laughing scornfully and calling him names, but instead they seemed to be hypnotised by his long fingers and surprisingly delicate wrists. Vince got that. He was regularly hypnotised by Howard’s hands, and distracted by thoughts of what those hands might be able to do, given the right instructions and encouragement. 

Feeling the sudden tightness in his regulation Zooniverse trousers Vince bit back on the urge to whine, and opted to cross his legs instead, dragging his eyes away from Howard’s dancing hands to scrutinize his face. It didn’t help the situation in his pants much but he focused as hard as he could, doing what he’d been doing for as long as he’d known Howard: memorizing all he could of the man’s face and ever-changing expression. He knew he was guilty of teasing Howard’s tiny features, but just because his eyes were subtle didn’t mean they weren’t there, and that they weren’t deep and meaningful in their own way. They were just... subtle.

Usually when Howard was trying to talk to women he wore a look of pained constipation, like he was trying to hold his real self back whilst attempting to project a Howard he thought people would find more palatable; easier to digest. Even if it meant bunging himself up with his real personality until he popped. Vince found it funny in the way he found dark comedy funny - you laughed because the jokes shocked you - and if you didn’t laugh you’d probably scream or hide behind the couch in fear that the horror would happen to you too. It was the reason why Vince practiced his reactions in the mirror each night, so that he never ended up looking the way Howard did when he was trying to impress people; but Howard didn’t currently look like he was clenching so hard he was about to blow an artery. If anything he looked the opposite. He looked relaxed, in the groove, feeling genuine enjoyment in the conversation he was having. He looked handsome.

Vince quickly slid the stack of incriminating photographs down over his groin. Howard looking handsome wasn’t anything new, but it caught Vince off guard every time, and he rarely got this kind of view. Howard had the sort of body that focused the artist’s mind, made up entirely of fluid lines and movement, and Vince felt his fingers twitch with the urge to sketch or paint the man. He’d tried before, many times, but could never bring himself to capture Howard’s true likeness. It was too embarrassing. If anyone ever saw the way Vince painted Howard’s body and face they would mock him for sure, as bad as Fossil had mocked him over the photographs. 

“NOIR!”

Jumping badly enough that several of the photographs slipped from his hands, Vince yelped at the sound of Fossil screaming his name. He scrabbled to grab the fluttering photos before turning on his heel to get to the changing room. Knowing his luck the only swimming uniforms left would be ugliest ones and he’d have to walk out in front of the crowds in some colour clashing monstrosity. A monstrosity that would do nothing to hide just how attractive he found Howard.

“So who was that?” he heard one of the girls ask as he retreated, the scorn just about dripping from her voice. “He doesn’t really work here, does he?”

“Vince?” Howard asked innocently, and Vince couldn’t help but imagine what the look on Howard’s face might be as he watched him go. “Oh, he, um... well... you know how it is. I let him help out a bit, here and there. It makes him feel useful.”

“Oh, I get it,” Vince heard faintly, wishing he couldn’t. “He’s like the village simpleton and you take pity on him. You’re so sweet, Howard.”

Cheeks flaming, Vince ran. But as he made a bee-line for the changing rooms, looking down to try and ensure he hadn’t missed any of the escaped photographs, he collided hard with an older gentleman covered in liver spots, and wearing a smoking jacket and cravat. Vince mumbled an apology but couldn’t get away before the man’s hand snaked around to squeeze his already-tired ass.

“Oh, my apologies, my boy!” the gentleman exclaimed, though he made sure to push up closer against Vince instead of backing out of his way. “I must say, it is a refreshing sight to see such a specimen of masculinity here today. You must be new here, indeed I cannot recall seeing you here before, but I shall enjoy seeing you here from now on, if you catch my meaning.” He let out a muffled giggle, licking his thin, aged, lips thirstily as his eyes roamed over Vince’s body. “You are truly a sight for sore eyes.”

Vince felt his mind reel with confusion. He was the most popular keeper at the zoo! Everyone knew who he was and what he looked like. He was practically famous. Then again, he’d never been approached by a man like this before. A man so... old, and... lecherous. He glanced across again at where Howard was still regaling the two girls with some tale of avant guard cinema. Usually it was Vince getting the girls whilst Howard was the one to stand in the background with the other dad types, trying and failing to make polite conversation. Howard had never mentioned that the men were so lewd though. Vince had just assumed they talked about jazz, not innuendo.

But just as he thought it he felt a hand suddenly grasp his bum again, and squawked unattractively at the contact, leaping away from the hand and stumbling over his own feet as he did so. He wanted to yell, to tell the guy he was a creep and that he should get lost, but found his voice had completely left him, and that his body was seizing up in what he could only guess was a case of the chokes.

He waited for the old man to carry on with his wandering hands, frozen with fear and with the realisation that he had no idea what to do, and that only a few yards away Howard was still talking and completely oblivious of Vince’s plight. The elderly man leant in close but didn’t try to touch him again, but did something possibly worse in Vince’s book; he leaned in to whisper in Vince’s ear.

“If you should ever like to take an old man up on a saucy operation, and take him up the rear! Haha! I shall be at the kiosk until closing. There could be a latte in it for you too, eh? There’s a good boy.” 

Vince remained still, unable to do more than breathe, as the old man gave him one final squeeze and then walked away, leaning lightly on an elegant cane. The only thing he could think was that the world had gone completely mental, or that he’d fallen through a mirror in to an alternate dimension. A dimension in which Vince got ignored and harassed whilst Howard was treated like some sort of rock star.

“I like your hair. How do you get it so glossy?”

Vince’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he realised that Howard really was being complimented on his hair by two really hot women. This was not the way things were supposed to go, it wasn’t-

“NOIR! POOL! NOW!”

Vince scurried off toward the pool, head down to hide his face behind his hair. He needed to think, but thinking wasn’t his forte and he didn’t even know where to start.

****

Shivering, pushing his wet hair from his eyes, Vince made his hurried way through the zoo. If one more gross old man or couger older lady solicited him he was going to really lose his cool. It wasn’t that he was especially opposed to the occasional fondling or proposition, he actually found it quite flattering, under the right circumstances. But long taloned hands coming out from the darkness to squeeze his poor ass were definitely not the right circumstances.

He’d just showered, after being dragged to the bottom of the pool, but he still felt dirty and like he wanted to scrub his skin raw. He’d never felt so miserable in his life, not since his first day at a British primary school. Back then his one saving grace had been Howard’s awkward kindness and reassurance and he felt in desperate need of it now, if he could just find Howard. He wouldn’t have any good ideas or know how to fix things but he was good at sharing the fear and anxiety. Vince liked to think of him as a comforting, if ugly and worn, fleece blanket. He was perfect for stormy nights and lazy afternoons, for times when Vince needed to feel a little extra warmth and safety. He was perfect for most times really, Vince admitted, like the small blanket he’d had back in India, he was comfort personified, even when he was terrified. 

‘Howard,’ Vince thought to himself soothingly. He’d go to Howard, explain the day he’d had, get a bit of sympathy, and then they could come up with a plan together. At first he’d thought to go to Naboo for help, but when he’d come round the corner in sight of the kiosk not one but two of his unwanted elderly suitors were there, blocking his way and sipping tea from styrofoam pocket-cups. Which really only left Howard, but Vince didn’t intend to tell him he was in any way a second choice. The way to Howard’s heart was through flattery, Vince had learned that long ago, even if no one else had.

“Oh, Howard, you are so, how do you say, intelligence? Like the python, yes? And just as handsome.”

“Ah well, Mrs. Gideon, aha, is that... handsome? Aha.”

Vince slowed down, fighting down the twist in his guts and the matching twisting of his lips. He couldn’t afford to get any ugly lines around his mouth from scowling, not with everything else that was going wrong in his life. But the sound of Mrs. Gideon purring her approval of Howard, stroking his ego until he was a hop-skipping, willing to do anything for compliments, ‘good boy’ was just too much. She’d gone for two years at the zoo, ignoring Howard at every turn and forgetting his name and manipulating him to serve her own purposes. No one should be allowed to do that sort of thing to Howard, especially when they knew that Howard couldn’t say no to a pretty face. 

Creeping carefully around the corner until he could safely spy on the awkwardly flirting couple from behind a convenient hedge, Vince squeezed more water out of his hair and tried to send psychic vibes at Gideon, wishing her to suddenly break out in boils, or realise that she was stepping on his turf, and that swooping in to snap up Howard just because he was having one confident day was well rude! 

As he watched Howard preen and give Mrs. Gideon elaborate and flowery compliments - all of which involved cream in some capacity - Vince felt his heart melt a little. He’d personally had a rubbish day, but Howard, it seemed, had actually had a good one, and it suited him. Howard didn’t often wear anything that suited him, he had spent his entire life trying to be something he was not, but compliments and genuine interest and attention really did suit him well. He was practically glowing. Vince wasn’t sure he’d seen him look so alive, and so genuinely proud. It gave him a fresh twinge in his trousers, as well as a twinge of what might have been guilt in his chest.

But when Mrs. Gideon touched Howard’s arm affectionately, and wasn’t rebuffed in any way, Vince wanted to scream. That was his thing! He was the one who touched Howard’s arm and plied him with the physical affection that he wanted and only pretended he didn’t. It wasn’t fair. Pouting angrily as he spied through the conveniently placed hedge, Vince wasn’t sure whether he was more annoyed with Gideon or himself. He wanted to be annoyed with Gideon and Gideon alone - ramping up her ‘foreign’ accent and likening Howard to a python, the sexiest of all snakes as everyone well knew - but his mind wasn’t letting him get away with it. He was spying on Howard through a hedge after all, and wishing misfortune on the woman who Howard had been besotted with for two years.

He should be happy for his friend really, after all, Howard put up with Vince getting attention from beautiful people all the time. He wasn’t necessarily ever happy about it but he put up with it, and he always asked Vince about his various dates, girlfriends, and boyfriends variations upon those themes. Sometimes he was even civil about it.

Not that Vince was feeling too civil right then. He wanted to march over there and slap Gideon’s hand away. He wanted to snap a broom! He wanted to-

“Well hi there.” With sudden rustling the hedge in front of him looked down, blinked, and smiled at him toothily. “Ain’t you a plump little piece of something sweet.” Vince tried to scream but a leafy hand was suddenly in front of his face, covering his mouth and blocking all but the most feminine squeak. The creature was far from mute however, and pushed its foliage-covered body against Vince’s with a rustling moan. “Oh yeah, come on tiny love muffin, we were meant for each other. You must love me just as I love you!”

Vince shrieked again at those words. He’d never heard that phrase personally but he knew what it meant, he’d heard Howard recount his monster run ins and they all seemed to involve being kidnapped and forced in to some sort of marriage/de facto/blood bonding relationship, and they all seemed to include that phrase: ‘You must love me just as I love you’. 

Vince wasn’t sure if he really understood love. He liked a lot of people, and some people he liked an awful lot. But love... he wasn’t sure. The closest he got was, well, Howard, but he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, it was too much to process in his head without saying it out loud to a leafy skinned freak of nature. Right then he couldn’t say anything at all of course, he was too terrified of the giant, manic, eyes staring at him with such a huge level of lust, not to mention the vines blocking his mouth. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Vince whispered in a muffled voice. “Please. I don’t want to die. I... I’ve got so much to give...”

“Oh, Howard Moon, I know that. I know that for sure. Why d‘you think I ventured here from afar? it wasn’t for the animals now was it, hmm? They’re a right bunch of pricks, ya know?Oh, no, no, no! It was for you, Howard Moon! I’s heard of you, and your famous ball-licking activities. My cousin done followed you around the zoo and he seen you! He seen you!”

“Wha... What?” Vince stammered as the monster loosened the vine blocking his voice, his eyes flickering as he searched for some way to escape the new madness he had unwittingly fallen into. “Howard? I’m not- I mean... Monsters have been following him around?”

“Oh, yessir,” the green monstrosity grinned. “Them human creatures may not see you, but we monsters do. We see you. We see a lot. You is famous!”

“Famous!” For a moment Vince found himself distracted by the word. He so desperately wanted to be famous and recognised and seen. Usually he was at least noticed by the people that mattered but after a day of being ignored by all but the creeps and greasy underbelly of society he was more than ready to be flattered and fawned over. Except that once again it was a monster, this time a real and monstrous one, taking notice of him, and they weren’t even there to witness the majesty of Vince Noir. They wanted Howard. Calling it devastating was an understatement so large it didn’t fit in Vince’s head. “But... I’m not Howard. I’m Vince. Vince Noir.” The hedge monster looked at him blankly for a long moment as Vince began to fidget, before the look in it’s eyes turned first to confusion and then to growing outrage. “Vince Noir? I’m um... in a band? Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

The banshee scream that met this revelation sent Vince skittering backwards, thumping against the empty bear enclosure and startling Howard and Mrs. Gideon where they were still flirting a few metres away. Vince saw the moment when Howard registered that there was a monster in his vicinity, and that Vince was in danger. It was as if time had stalled, as if the editing team had slowed down the frame rate in search of a continuity error, and Vince brought his hand up to his face, wondering if he had left his reading glasses on by mistake again - but his face was clear. 

But even without glasses he could see Howard’s face in detail, and waited for the moment when the panic would set in, when Howard would begin to scream and flail. They would all be doomed if that were to happen; the monster would figure out who the real Howard was and go for him, and Vince would have no choice but to tackle the creature, no doubt wrecking his outfit and hair completely in the process, not to mention putting himself at real risk of death by lustful hedge. He felt frozen again, like he was turning to stone starting from his feet and working up, but then he saw Howard straighten his spine and begin running forward to help.

“No! Just run, get out of here! I got this!” 

Vince wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, he wasn’t usually given to this kind of bravery, but the thought of ruining what was possibly Howard’s best and least stressful day ever, was too much for even Vince to bear. He couldn’t mess up Howard’s good luck. Choosing not to examine why Howard having a good day seemed to involve spending almost no time with Vince, and Vince having a truly rotten day, he fought against the hedge monster in one of the only ways he knew how: he slapped it across it’s leaf encrusted face.

The creature retaliated by digging it’s thorny fingers in to Vince’s hair and pulling with malicious glee. 

“Not Howard!” it shrieked as it pulled. “Not Howard! Impostor! Just a regular, non-famous, loser! How dare you trick me!”

Vince tried to pull the hands from his hair - this was the worst possible outcome! - but vines swarmed out from the creature’s leafy body, whipping him and encircling him, reminiscent of puppeteered limbs on fishing wire strings. But to Vince they were all too real; binding his arms to his sides and his legs together, coming at him from all angles like powerful wet flannels. It was too much to fight against and his only consolation was that at least he’d given Howard the time he needed to escape. He could only imagine how bad the panic attack might have been if Howard had been the one attacked. Howard probably would have wet himself in fear and never lived the event down. It would have crushed his fragile ego even more, and Vince hated to see that happen to his best friend, hated how slumped Howard’s shoulders always got in response to yet another defeat. At least, Vince thought as his screams were muffled by a green tendril wrapping around his face again, he had saved Howard from being humiliated in front of Mrs. Gideon. 

As that reassuring thought crossed his mind Vince looked up, hoping to see Howard running as far away from the scene as possible (and not just because Howard running away provided an excellent view), but instead he saw Howard doing the unthinkable, running toward the danger! Vince tried to tell him to stop, tried to scream, because what was the point of his sacrifice if Howard was captured anyway? But he couldn’t get the words out, his mouth was covered in vines and leaves, and he watched in horror as Howard came within grabbing distance of the monster.

The axe Howard swung in the next moment caught the light just so - as if there had been someone on hand with a torch to provide the effect - and with a, frankly, heroic battle cry, Howard sliced straight through the hedge monster’s neck. The green, leafy head went soaring through the air, eyes wide with surprise, not with shock or pain, but because they had finally caught sight of the real Howard Moon. 

“Howard!” the disembodied head cried as it sailed over the heads of the crowd that had mysteriously appeared to witness the heroic moment. “My head. Cut off. By Howard Moon! I love you, Howard! Sign my fig leaf? Hashtag Blessed!” 

The voice faded from earshot as the head sailed over the fence of the baboon boudoir, overtaken by the delighted shrieks of the vicious primates - they always appreciated a new football when it made it’s way in to their enclosure - and Vince breathed a sigh of relief, or as much of one as he could, still constricted from neck to toe in vines. He could only watch as the crowd cheered and flocked around Howard, stroking his jacket and hair. Vince waited for Howard to jump back at being touched but the flailing never came. Howard, it seemed, was fine with being touched by adoring fans. It was only Vince’s adoring touches that he abhorred. 

The pain of that thought made Vince weak at the knees. He’d had the most miserable day imaginable and now, it seemed, it was to be topped off by the realisation that Howard wasn’t so much opposed to people in general as he was opposed to Vince in particular. It was too much. With no way to move his arms or legs for balance he fell to the ground with a thunk, the body of the hedge monster falling on top of him with a compost-ee crunch. At least, he thought miserably, no one could see him under the mass of leaves. With any luck he’d be able to die there with a bit of dignity.

“Vince! Vince, hold on!”

But apparently even that was out of reach of his rotten luck, and several uncomfortable minutes later Howard had freed him of the hedge monster’s body, leaving him exposed in his muddy, ripped clothes, and completely messed up hair, to the sizable crowd that had formed around them.

“Oh, Howard,” Mrs. Gideon fawned, hanging off Howard’s shoulder. “You are so strong. Such man of action. So... sexy!”

“Like a movie star,” piped up another voice, and Vince turned to focus as best as his watering eyes would allow, to Howard’s other side, where the two scene girls from earlier were falling over themselves to give Howard compliments and adoring looks.

“Yeah, that was well brave and sexy. Like a hero from an action film.” 

“Yeah. You should totally come out tonight, to like celebrate with us, yeah?”

Mrs. Gideon’s nostrils flared at that, and Vince couldn’t blame her. It was hard being outdone by girls who were younger, fitter, and shinier. Not that he felt a huge amount of sympathy. Gideon had stepped in on his turf with a smugness that was definitely unattractive. “Or you could come back to the Reptile Lounge, Howard,” she purred, a bit desperately by Vince’s assessment. “To celebrate in a more... mature fashion, perhaps? I have wine.”

Vince couldn’t help but snort at that, Gideon was being far too obvious and the way she said wine made her sound like a vampire, and if there was only one thing Vince knew about Howard it was that he was terrified of vampires and had been since he was six years old. (It wasn’t the only thing Vince knew about Howard, obviously, but it was still a handy fact, and had come in handy surprisingly often over the years.)

He watched and waited for Howard to make his choice, wondering whether his obsession with Gideon would override his vampirephobia, but he jumped back from her touch just like Vince had thought he would, and there was no denying the sense of satisfaction Vince felt at seeing Gideon’s hold over Howard finally break. So it was to be the two-for-one then, he guessed, watching the delighted film students close in, and tried not to burst in to tears there on the ground in front of such a large group of people. 

Embarrassingly a single sob still escaped and Vince’s cheeks flared red as Howard turned back to look at him, as if remembering he was there, whilst the people around looked down jeeringly, no doubt judging him for being attacked by a plant-based beast whilst out in public with wet hair. It was just too much, and Vince closed his eyes against the scorn. He couldn’t take this sort of judgement, not for a minute longer, especially not in front of Howard. He would rather have chosen death than such public humiliation and didn’t know how any person could survive this kind of existence. 

He expected that if he lay still enough the people staring at him would forget that he was there, especially since they had Howard to focus on, but instead, a moment later, he felt a hand slide in to his, and another come to support his shoulder, as he was helped to his feet. There was a generalised murmuring around them, and sounds of disgust from the women on both Howard’s right and left, but Vince didn’t focus on those sounds. The two large hands that had raised him up - Howard’s hands - were now holding him securely and safely against Howard’s chest, and he felt as much as heard Howard’s voice as it poured forth, creamily.

“Come on now, Little Man. Let’s get you cleaned up. You’ve had a shocker. Come on, now. A nice hot shower and a cup of tea is what you need. Trust me. I’ve got you.”

****

Back in the Keepers’ Hut, wrapped in a thick, warm, white towel, with another around his hair, and with a mug of steaming tea in his hands, Vince did feel a whole lot better. He was sat sideways on the couch, feet tucked up and knees to his chest, feeling more at ease than he had since waking up that morning, and yet there was something still niggling at him, like a secretary trying to patch through an important but unwished for phone call to his brain.

“Howard... have you had an alright day?” Okay, so he was tip-toeing around the conversation, but it was better than his usual strategy of saying nothing and he was feeling twice as much anxiety as he normally would in these circumstances. 

“Um,” Howard began thoughtfully, looking down at his own tea and shuffling his scuffed shoes against the wooden floor. “Well, it’s certainly been memorable. It’s nice that so many of our colleagues have recognised my seniority and superior zoo-keeping knowledge. And Fossil only bothered me once, and that was only to go and find you. And I somehow wasn’t rostered on to do any form of poop scooping, and you know how rare that is, haha. Plus,” he continued with growing enthusiasm, “I got out of the porpoise race, ooh, and was given a double helping of turnip stew at lunch - and you know how good the kiosk’s turnip stew is - so that was pretty special.” 

At this mention of food Vince’s stomach growled; he hadn’t had time for lunch, no one had even thought to let him know it was being served. And normally treats like double servings were reserved for him alone. He knew it was wrong to be jealous of Howard for getting that perk for once, but it was hard to be generous and even-minded when you’d had a horrible day and were hungry to boot.

“That does sound nice, Howard,” he responded quietly once his tummy had settled, suddenly thinking how modest Howard’s idea of a good day really was. “So it’s been pretty good, yeah?”

“Well, yeah,” Howard agreed, eyebrows raising up to hide in his untidy curls. To Vince it seemed that Howard’s hair was looking healthier and bouncier than usual, and was reflecting the yellowish lamp light in an enticing way, a way that Vince couldn’t recall it ever doing so before. Or perhaps he’d never noticed it, despite his efforts. “And I had a coffee with Mrs. Gideon, Vince! Her first name is Olga, did you know that? And I brought up Nietzsche, you know, really showed my stuff, threw out all my best lines, but apparently she’s more interested in someone called Jürgen Habermas, and when I joked that I thought that was film director, she didn’t seem to understand. But, you know, we had a very adult, deep, philosophical discussion and it was very serious, and deep, and adult, and... serious. But then I met those two girls as well.”

Vince frowned. Howard didn’t seem as enthusiastic as Vince would have expected. He understood why Howard’s feelings might have soured with regard to Gideon. He’d also learnt from experience that the snake expert could be horrifically tedious, ten times worse than Howard ever was (and he could be well tedious, as Vince knew). And then there was the whole vampire thing. Howard never could cope with a person saying wine as ‘vine’, it gave him the right squicks, but Vince knew better than to expect Howard to actually admit that. Still, he was surprised that Howard wasn’t more excited about the two uni girls, despite their bitchy moods and bad taste in footwear, they had been well attractive. 

“So did you get their numbers?” he asked, hoping to prod Howard back in to a better frame of mind, but the smile Howard gave him in response was strained. 

“Well, they offered. Well, they offered to type them in to my phone or to text me so that I would have them, but...”

Vince bit his lip, guessing at the problem. “But you don’t have a mobile phone, do you, Howard?”

“Look, you, I’m a man of substance, a man of simple charm. I don’t flit about on the winds of technological whim. I go with what works, no matter if it’s considered ‘old’ or ‘uncool’.” He spluttered for a moment, choking on his own indignation. “They called me old, Vince!”

Vince bit deeper in to his lip, wondering how often it had been him thoughtlessly referring to Howard as old and uncool. And sure, it was true, but he probably didn’t need to be saying it all the time. That time he’d been attacked by a bat, Howard had only mentioned his enlarged, bulbous head twice before giving Vince his dignity and ignoring the paper bag he was wearing. Vince resolved he would do better at repaying that favour, and not pointing out Howard’s foibles just for a laugh or to make himself feel better. He was going to try to be nicer to Howard in general. After all, things were better when they got along together. 

“Did they make fun of you, Howard?” he asked softly, ducking his head so that Howard wouldn’t see how seriously he was asking the question, and how much it hurt to feel his friend’s pain. “They seemed pretty in to you during the whole... evil hedge... incident. Thanks for that, by the way You really saved my neck there. I thought I was gonna be a plant food for sure. You were a right hero.”

He looked up in time to see Howard blush, his smile becoming genuine and sweet rather than pompous or creepy. It was a smile that Vince loved and he reckoned no one else got to see it the way he did. It was the sort that usually made his heart flutter and his trousers tighten, but the day’s events had made him more than a little paranoid and he glanced around at the windows to ensure that Fossil wasn’t lurking with a camera. If he was he was about to be disappointed because hiding his attraction to Howard’s smile was much easier to do while sitting curled up in a large towel than it was while standing with a rake, wearing a pair of tight, fashionable, trousers. Perhaps he needed to find a way to make oversized towels a fashion statement, or just get his poncho out of storage. It was impossible to be unhappy in a poncho after all, and he could really do with that sort of sadness barrier.

“Thanks, Vince,” Howard said softly, his smile widening further. “I’m not sure exactly what made me do it. I mean, other than the fact that I’m a man of action who would never leave a vulnerable maide- uh, I mean, person, in such distress. That and I knew you wouldn’t survive such a mauling of your hair. And, well, those girls... they liked the fact that I don’t have a mobile phone actually. They thought it was ‘well retro’ and ‘old school’.”

Howard said the words with distaste, and Vince grinned crookedly, with affection, at Howard’s old world charm. He didn’t understand that people might actually be complimenting him.

“I think they meant those as good things, Howard,” he said gently, but Howard just shot him a skeptical look.

“Everything they said to me was a compliment, Vince. It was all hollow flattery, pointless and meaningless fawning,” he huffed. “I’m a man of substance, Vince. I need more than that. I need true insight and feeling behind any compliment to my person or works.”

“Maybe they’d just heard about what you do to anyone who dares to give you criticism,” Vince shot back with a cheeky grin, unable to let the pomposity go on too long. “All those boxing montages really paid off. You have a mean right hook on you, Howard. I know they say girls like a bad boy, but still, they don’t necessarily want their bad boy to sock ‘em one in the eye!”

“That was a one time thing, sir,” Howard shot back sharply, but his lips twitched upwards and Vince could see the spark in his eyes, the willingness to engage in verbal sparring, to forget the world beyond their cosy corner of the Keepers’ Hut. “And while it’s true that I am a fierce opponent in the boxing ring, I have worked hard to control my manly temper, and to better myself, as all great men do.” He kept up the act for another moment before slouching back and swirling what was left of his tea. “I spent a fortune on Naboo’s shamanic hypnosis treatments. It’s been months since I last snapped a broom.” 

“Yeah,” Vince agreed, trying to smile, even as he started to feel uneasy. The pieces of the puzzle were finally clicking together in his head (mostly thanks to his brain’s secretary) and he felt he’d finally figured out the mystery of his uncharacteristic bad luck, and Howard’s good luck too. “Shaman treatments are good like that. I mean, as long as they’re legit treatments, you know, and not, um, not, black market or, like, not quite legit? Like, say, an amulet from a catalogue? Or something?”

Howard’s moustache twitched, but that was the only indication that he’d heard what Vince had said, and Vince began to fidget, tapping out a disconsolate tune with his fingers against his empty mug. He wasn’t sure how to be more blunt without becoming rude or accusatory, and he didn’t want that.

“Mm,” Howard eventually nodded before smoothing his moustache carefully. “We wouldn’t want that.”

He’d gone all shifty-eyed again but Vince was having none of it. They spent their time using words to dance around the facts and ignore their feelings (well, Vince’s feelings for Howard at least) and not really hearing or seeing each other when it mattered. And Vince had spent the day going unseen by those he wanted to be seen by, and he was done with it.

“Howard, look at me! Yeah, you, ya big northern hero! Look at me and listen, yeah? Please? ‘Cos maybe your day’s been alright but my day’s been rubbish! I nearly got tasered by Graham, I got tripped up by every rake in the zoo, teased by Joey Moose! Nearly drowned by an angry porpoise, had my shoes dissed by two super fashionable girls, been propositioned three times by freaky octogenarians! Molested by Fossil! Howard! Howard! He made me dance, Howard!”

Howard only nodded again but he was looking at Vince at least, wearing that miserable, hang-dog look that Vince had never been able to resist. He was thinking. Vince always knew when Howard was doing more than his usual level of deep thinking, and so tried to hold back the urge to keep talking. He wanted to hear what Howard had to say but he also wanted to fill the silence because he didn’t trust silence and never had, because silence meant he was alone and ignored, and he didn’t want to go through that ever again.

“Howard?” he asked as quietly as he could, hating that it came out as a whine. “Howard? Howard? Howard?... Howard? I know what that amulet thing was for, Howard. I don’t know why you done it, unless it’s some sort of Aesop deal, where I’m supposed to learn a lesson or something. But usually it’s about animals, not people, right? And the only animal in this story was that snooty porpoise. Oh, and the hedge monster. Only he wasn’t an animal was he? ‘Cos plants ain’t animals are they? It’s animal, vegetable, mineral, huh? Wait, are plants vegetables or minerals? And don’t vegetables have minerals in ‘em? ‘Cos that’s what you said the other day, right? ‘Cos-”

“Vince!” Vince jumped in his seat and then scrambled to wrap his towel back around himself when he realised Howard was looking at him with exasperated amusement. “Just... give me a minute to think, would you?”

“But why did you do this to me, Howard? We’re best friends, aren’t we?”

“I didn’t want to do anything to you, Vince,” Howard said carefully. “I didn’t realise it would switch your luck with mine. I just wanted a bit of good luck, to have a good day for once. I wanted to be the golden child with the charmed life.” He chuckled softly to himself. “To be honest I was expecting more. It was all just a bit tiring.”

Vince blinked. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “What? Howard you’ve had the best day ever! You didn’t have to shovel shit, or nearly get kidnapped by an overgrown shrub, or felt up by Fossil and some handsy old fogies. Howard! How do you cope with it?”

“Oh, there’s an easy enough way to deal with them, I’ve found,” Howard chuckled, though to Vince’s eye he looked a little sad. He’d shuffled closer too, offering Vince a reassuring pat on the knee which was a pretty sure sign of guilt. Howard only offered physical contact when he felt guilty about something. Vince wished he didn’t know that fact, but Howard was trying to smile at him and it made his heart ache worse than it ever had before. “It’s okay, Vince, I just ask them how much cash they have on them and then say it’s not enough by half.” This time, when he chuckled, Vince tried to join him. “That’s why Fossil says I’m a ‘former’ male prostitute. He thinks I’ve priced myself out of the market. Truth was, I was never on the market but it’s too much of a headache to keep arguing with him. This way is easier.”

“But, Howard,” Vince exclaimed, “it’s humiliating!” I had to fight off three of them, and that’s not including what Fossil did. I never want to be touched again after all that. You hate being touched! You must hate it so much.”

Howard shrugged but the sadness was back. “Most of my life is humiliating, Vince. I’ve very nearly resigned myself to it.”

Vince sat up shakily, trying to calm the sudden beating of his heart. He wasn’t a fan of big, emotional, moments. Declarations weren’t really his thing, he preferred to speak his heart with his outfits, but Howard did appreciate emotional gestures, and words, and Vince now had a better insight in to Howard’s life than he would have liked to, and he had to say something.

“Howard, I’m so, so sorry. You shouldn’t have to put up with any of this. You really shouldn’t. Why don’t you stand up for yourself and just stop it?”

Howard blinked. “Why didn’t you?”

Vince had no answer for that. He wasn’t good at answers. Instead he shook his head and looked down at Howard’s hand still on his knee. He wasn’t any good at thinking either so focused on how long Howard’s fingers were instead. Howard really did have a lot going for him, if he bothered to see it, but there was no denying that he had the worst luck of anyone in town, possibly in the world. It wasn’t fair. They were stuck in a rut and maybe it was time, Vince mused, for them both to get out, to get away and start over somewhere new. Jagger knew Vince wanted to get as far away from Fossil as possible. He wasn’t sure he could face him after all the dancing and tiny pants wearing and... photographs. He still wasn’t sure how Howard lived with it, but they were going to make a change, because they both deserved better.

“D’you ever think about leaving the zoo, Howard?” Howard’s eyelids blinked so rapidly that Vince wondered whether he was trying to answer in some sort of code, or whether he just had something in his eye, but then his lower lip began to do the same thing, wobbling like he was scared of the words that were ready to slip out of his mouth. “Howard?”

“Before the Jungle Room, not really. Now, almost every week,” Howard answered softly, and Vince tried to focus on the words Howard was saying and not just the emotion behind the words. It was tricky, made more so because Howard’s hand was still on his knee, and was moving slowly, as if giving Vince’s knee cap a massage, and Vince’s eyes darted to the window again, paranoid that the second his body’s response to Howard’s touch got out of control Fossil would be there to capture his humiliation on camera.

“We could get away, maybe?” he whispered huskily. “Go on holiday? Try a career change? You’re a genre spanner right? An’ I’m a fashion chameleon. We could make it work.”

Howard smiled carefully, a softness overtaking his features, and a hopefulness in his eyes that was rare and precious to Vince. “I could try my hand at photography? Explore my music again.”

“Yeah,” Vince agreed excitedly, leaning forward as his towel slipped from his shoulder. “We could get our band back together! It would be genius! Especially since Naboo trapped that Spirit of Jazz berk in an un-openable vacuum bag! We could do whatever we wanted!”

“Anything we want,” Howard echoed quietly, leaning closer to Vince until they were well within each other’s space and Howard’s hand had slipped upwards toward Vince’s thigh. “And hey, speaking of Naboo, he approached me today and said he’d heard my landlord was being a dick and that I could rent a room from him if I wanted. He seemed a little confused about offering it to me, actually, haha.” Howard looked a little embarrassed and then carefully reached to put his empty tea cup on the floor before pulling the amulet from his pocket. “I think he only offered because of the luck charm. I think he could feel it’s influence even if he couldn’t fight it... Vince, I’m sorry I used this to take your luck from you. You didn’t deserve it. No one deserves to be molested by Bob Fossil to a Bob Marley sound track.”

“Agreed,” Vince grinned, letting out a low giggle. The whole event seemed less disturbing when he and Howard could share the pain and laugh it off together. Everything was better when they could do it together. And Vince was incapable of holding a grudge, especially when it was Howard. “And that’s well cool, you moving in with Naboo. I’ll have to come ‘round and visit, yeah? Throw you a housewarming party.”

Howard frowned for a second and Vince worried he’d be barred from Howard’s new home, but a second later he looked up at Vince with eyes so full of emotion that they were just about overflowing (which wasn’t really surprising since they were such small eyes and overflowed easily). The big show of emotion was a little scary, but Vince had dealt with a lot of scary things in the last twelve hours and he was feeling brave. And apparently so was Howard.

“You know, Vince,” he began slowly. “I’m told it’s a rather big room that Naboo’s letting. More than enough space for a man of my simple tastes. Too much space even. It might even be considered prudent to seek to... share... such a large room. To share with, say, a trusted friend?”

Without a thought of the consequences, or where his towel might end up, Vince flung himself in to Howard’s arms, hugging him tight in the way he expressed himself best. He felt Howard stiffen for a moment, heard the beginning of the word, “Don’t-” escape his mouth, but the rest of the rebuke didn’t come, and instead Howard carefully, and rather stiffly, put his arms around Vince, pressing the Luck Changer Charm that he still held in his hand, against the bare skin of Vince’s back. 

As the cold stone in the centre of the charm touched his skin Vince felt a strange tingle run down his spine. A moment later the towel fell from around his hair and it tumbled down to sit perfectly around his shoulders. Grinning so wide his cheeks actually started to hurt, Vince leaned in to the hug, making the most of the moment, and pleased that even if he’d had a rubbish day, at least Howard had learnt how to accept the occasional hug. 

When they finally parted Howard looked a little dazed, and a quick glance down informed Vince that he wasn’t the only one with a case of trouser tightness (or towel as the case might be). It seemed like his Vince Noir luck was back and now, seeing its power, he vowed to use it more wisely, like in the slow but steady wooing of Howard T.J. Moon. 

“This is going to be genius, Howard,” he said slowly, trying to control the huskiness and longing in his voice. “I can’t wait to tell Fossil where he can shove it tomorrow. We should bring a camera, yeah? Take a photo of him when he wets himself out of fear when his two best keepers quit.” He grinned vindictively. “It’s going to be genius.”

“You’re right there, Little Man,” Howard chuckled, shuffling back just a little and looking down at his lap, his cheeks staining pink with the beginning of his accustomed embarrassment. “But maybe I’ll let you do the talking, eh? Your luck is a powerful thing in it’s way.”

“I’ll do the talking, then our feet can do the walking!” Vince grinned cheerfully. “And then I say we hit Graham over the head with his own electric baton on our way out.”

Listening to Howard’s genuine, affectionate laughter was the best ending Vince could imagine after such a painful day and he wrapped his towel around himself like an extra, congratulatory hug as he sat back to look at Howard and appreciate him without the interference of anyone else. He was going to have to try harder in remembering not to take Howard for granted, or leave him behind in the woods,or in TopShop, or on that creepy Swanboat ride when they were staying at the Goofy Lodge. There would be no more getting distracted by random girls, no going off on solo adventures, and definitely no more monster kidnappings. They were going to be roommates now, and bandmates for real; they were leaving the zoo and things were going to change, Vince could feel it.

He’d spent a day walking in Howard’s shoes, even though he’d actually still been wearing his red boots, and there was no way he was going to forget the experience. They were moving on to a new season of their lives and Vince was sure it was going to be different, that he and Howard would be different, and closer than they’d ever been before, and that sometime soon he’d definitely be able to tell Howard exactly how he felt about him. Or at least soonish. 

He looked across at Howard, who had picked up a notepad and was happily making To-Do lists, and smiled. Maybe he should dye his hair black. That would be cool.


End file.
